Inevitable
by BanoffeePiper
Summary: Percy Jackson/The Hunger Games. 12 tributes, all chosen for the 37th Hunger Games. All have a story to tell. They were angry. Scared. Broken. Haunted. But only one was victorious. (Also on Wattpad.)
1. Annabeth

Annabeth stood impassively, facing the stage, the hand of the girl next to her in a bone-shattering clasp as it was _something_ to hold onto. The breeze blew through her blonde curls and fluttered the edge of her dress, causing it to spiral out to the side of her. The heads of thousands of children splayed out in front, most of them scared sick, stood stiff as she watched; the sea of clean, pretty dresses and pressed suits at a frozen standstill. She fingered her pale grey dress with her free hand, rubbing the heavy cotton between her fingers.  
It was like this every year.  
Annabeth Chase would wake up in a panic, screaming and crying until her father stormed in to tell her she was disturbing her little brothers. He would always tell what an honour it would be to represent her district; How she should show some pride.  
In her opinion, dying for a place that would forget you only too fast was not heroic; It wasn't something she should aim for. Because despite all her training, Annabeth Chase would not be able to win the games.

She could hit the target every time with a knife.  
But she wouldn't ever stab a person.  
She could swing a mace with such force that it smashed the practise dummy to smithereens.  
But she'd rather that happened to _her_ than she had to do that to someone.  
She knew how to find water, how to kill and gut any number of wild animals.  
But...  
Ok, Annabeth didn't have an argument for that one.

Staring up at the empty stage, she tightened her grip on Thalia's wrist. The friend in question leaned over to whisper:  
" Annie. Annie _please_ calm down. If you're picked you know someone will volunteer in your place. Clarisse, Kym, _someone_ like them. You've heard Clarisse boasting about how she's going to win this year!"  
Thalia' s choppy black bob swung in the breeze as she smiled reassuringly up at Annabeth. It was alright for _her_. She only had her name in four times. Annabeth had hers in _ten_ times. Sure, people in other districts must have theirs in many more, but to them, ten was a hell of a lot.  
Annabeth stared down at Thalia, hoping with everything she had that that was the case. Worst case scenario: She got picked, Clarisse volunteered. Simple. Nothing to worry about.  
So why was still frozen stiff with fear?  
Because... , Because...  
Screeching static boomed through the ears of the spectators, causing all eyes to fly to the stage set up in the middle of the square. A middle aged Capitol man in a disgusting leopard-print shirt and shockingly green shorts was hunched over, coughing into the microphone.  
 _Oh Gods. It was starting._  
The presenter, dubbed Dionysus, ( _Probably by himself,_ after _he'd been drinking,_ Annabeth though sourly.) straightened up and proceeded to start the ceremony.  
"Well here we are again, at another _brilliant_ reaping!" He managed, voice scratchy and laden with sarcasm. The introduction was carried on in the same tone: " Now everyone turn their heads to watch the video so kindly brought to you by the Capitol."  
" _I think they've written him a script"_ Thalia whispered over to Annabeth. " _He's not usually that polite. Or able to speak in anything but drunken grunts!"_  
Annabeth sniggered, earning her a filthy look from the white-uniformed peacekeepers guarding the different groups of children. She hastily turned her eyes to the screen.  
Then immediately looked away again.  
They were showing scenes from last year's Hunger Games. A vicious-looking tribute was hurling knives at a sobbing young boy. A blonde girl was choking to death, the same tribute's hand wrapped around her neck. The body of a dark-skinned boy lay in a pool of blood and dirt, a sword sticking out his chest.  
The images made her feel physically sick. They wanted volunteers, yet they showed them those videos. Like they were meant to make them want victory; Like they thought the children of the districts were to stupid to know what happened to the other 23 tributes.  
Annabeth held her breath as Dionysus stumbled over to the two reaping balls. He seemed to deliberate between the two, before opting to pick the male tribute first.  
" Sherman Yang." He drawled, completely uninterested. The new tribute, a massively muscular guy with a bellicose attitude that stuck out a mile, _whooped_ as he ran up to the stage, before composing himself slightly and standing at the front of the stage, taking a bow, then shuffled along to his designated spot on the left.  
Dionysus turned to the girls ball. Forget heart-in-your-throat, Annabeth's heart was now balancing on the very tip of her nose, ready to fall and shatter at the slightest movement.  
The presenter cleared his throat, causing static to come bursting out the speakers. Even that didn't break Annabeth's concentration as she stared at the slip of paper he held in his hands.  
 _Not me._ She prayed. _Please. I'll look after my little brothers, I'll try harder in school! Just... Please!_  
Dionysus coughed again and tore open the slip.  
"Our other _lucky_ contestant is... Annabell... No. A... Annabeth Chase!"  
The wind whistled through the banners decorating the square.  
Not one breath of a volunteer could be heard.


	2. Percy

_You'd think, that on the most important day of the year, I could manage NOT to destroy my only suit!_ Percy thought, feeling both cynically amused and exceedingly desperate at the same time. Last night, he'd made sure his navy-blue suit was washed and pressed, with a clean shirt and polished shoes laid out beside it. He'd checked it, double checked it and triple checked it.  
Then when he'd woken up that morning, Percy had fallen over the ripped remains of his shoes.  
He blamed the dog.  
Sighing, Percy gathered together the spit-soaked rags and dumped them in a corner of his room. _Since when was anything going to go right?_  
 _But at least,_ He thought to himself, _that means I might not be chosen as a tribute. You know. Karma?_  
He stared around his grey-stone room, glaring gloomily at the opposite wall.  
The one time he actually managed to find something that looked halfway decent and his _stupid_ dog ruined it. It wasn't a matter of wanting to look good for the Reaping, it was the fact that every other teenaged boy in the district owned a suit for Reaping day. And he didn't. It had kind of grated on his state of mind after six years, so he'd run extra jobs for the richer people of the district for the money.  
And now Mrs O'Leary, that brain-dead dog of his, had eaten his suit.  
Percy ran a hand through his newly-messed up black bangs and collapsed backwards onto his small wooden bed, eliciting a groan from the old frame.  
He stared up at the driftwood ceiling, pondering on what exactly he was going to end up wearing to the reaping.  
 _Oh Gods, the Reaping!_  
The abhorred event was due to start at two, in about three hours. The thought of it made his palms sweat and his breathing become dilated, and that didn't happen to Percy often.  
And with a heavy heart, he began rifling through this remaining clothes for something suitable to wear.


	3. Annabeth 2

_I can't say anything._  
 _I think I'm in shock._  
 _Maybe I died when the called my name - peacefully._  
 _Maybe it's just a nightmare._  
 _So why can't I wake up?_

It was so... Surreal. The way I was lead up on stage. How I was lead to a tiny, plush room to say my goodbyes. When my dad came in, telling me how proud he was of me. It's exactly like a dream. From the moment when Thalia was whispering to me, safe in the assumption that the both of us would be eating sweets from the town centre before the day was out.  
But I'll never taste those sweets again. Or talk to Thalia.  
Everything from then to now, where I'm sitting on the train, Sherman sprawled over a red velvet sofa to the left, Dionysus missing in action, and our mentor, Artemis, impatiently counting the seconds until the reruns of the Reapings are shown. I don't want to watch the Reapings. I'll be dead too soon for it to matter anyway. Too dead to worry about who wins, who dies, who goes home broken. Either mentally or physically. I don't care.

The wall-sized television flickers to life, images of past victors flashing up on the screen. All of Panem will be watching. Whether in relief or tears, it all depended on the Reapings. Artemis directs our attention to the programme, where they're showing district 1. I don't want to know who was picked.  
 _I'll be dead_ I want to scream. _I don't care! Or want to have to keep saying this!_  
But out of pure interest, I watch anyway.

 _A middle-aged man with stormy eyes and a thick beard stood erect on the stage, his preposterously adorned suit rippling in the breeze._  
 _His hand dipped into the boys reaping ball. He played around with the slips, flicking several aside, almost choosing some, before dropping them._  
 _Finally, one slip was drawn out._  
 _Pristine. Unopened ._  
 _Deadly._  
 _The Capitol man read it out, in a deep voice matching the fire in his eyes._  
 _It's rare that you see something like that in the eyes of Capitol freaks._  
 _He reads out the name._  
 _It echoes, like the many names read out in previous years._  
 _The boy in question shuffled up to the stage, fear and shock evident on his face._  
 _I've never felt so sorry for anyone._  
 _He's soon joined by a young girl with curly, cinnamon-toast coloured hair. She jogs up, fist clenched, tears threatening to spill out her caramel eyes._  
 _And just like that, Frank Zhang and Hazel Levesque are lead away._

I blink. Two people lead to their deaths. Artemis and Sherman don't even look bothered. The latter still has his stupid grin on his face.

 _"District two" the screen announces._

Now I have to watch me.

It's bearable, just about. I watch Sherman's stupid victory dance, spot Thalia's black crop in the crowd, see myself break down on the stage and get lead away howling. My eyes scan the crowd thirstily, attempting to take in every last bit of home they can muster.  
But it's gone too quickly.

I don't watch the other Reapings as meticulously. But I do end up remembering most of the tributes, by face at least.  
There's a elvish-faced boy with crazy curly hair and a _trouble_ grin from 3, the girl from 4, Reyna, has eyes like volcanic rock. Her district partner, Per-something kept his head down. I'm thinking it was because his dirty outfit contrasted so badly with those of the others in his district. His sea-green eyes glared at everyone unlucky enough to cross him. There was a blue-eyed boy and a surprisingly beautiful girl from 5, the former going by Jason. A pale boy with a deathly black, shoulder-length crop from 6, glaring worse than the boy from 4. His black suit hung of his skinny shoulder blades and almost tripped him up on his way to the stage. Someone cried for him. Someone in the crowd of adults. He didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn't care.

The names were coming too thick and fast by then, a blur of tears, brave faces and stupid Capitol voices. The male tribute for 7 had a brother in the crowd. The camera showed them clinging together, before the younger one was lead up onto that platform. The girl from 8 had cat-like eyes. The girl from 11 kicked the Peacekeepers, whereas her counterpart, Will something-or-other, just burst out crying. The boy from 12 looked half starved, his pale-blue eyes yearning for what he was so obviously starved of. He snarled as he was lead up on stage.

As soon as the Reapings ended, Artemis flicked the switch, cutting out the bright colour, swishing her legs around on the velvet sofa.  
"I see you were writing that down Annabeth!" She smiled.  
 _How can you possibly smile?_  
"Tactics." I stated dully. "Know one's enemy."  
 _"_ Only too right.", our mentor muttered, clouds passing over her previously perky eyes.  
 _"_ Sorry?"  
 _"_ That's correct!" She smiled again. Fake for definite this time. "Do you want me to replay that for you, so that you get a better idea of-"  
 _"_ Sorry." I interjected again. " I actually think I'll just go and lie down..."  
Before I'd even finished the sentence, I was out the door and halfway down the train.

 _Hell._  
 _Hell. On Earth._  
 _I really can't do this._


	4. Leo

Well that Was it. He was dead. That was the worst day that would happen to him  
Ever.  
And that _wasn't_ including the train ride from hell.  
His _stupid_ escort had made them watch the Reapings about 10 times on repeat, the food had made him throw up, and his district partner, Sienna, was really grumpy. You couldn't blame her really, but she could at least _talk_ to him!

Oh yes. Leo was having a _very_ bad day.

The young Latino bounced up and down, staring out the window at the ever-approaching Capitol. Huge fountains graced the borders, massive buildings- bigger than the Justice building back home- rose up into the sky. The pavements were startling colours of pale blue and flowery pink. Was concrete usually that colour in the Capitol? Leo thought so. Just another example of money gone to waste in the Capitol. Money that could have gone to the districts...

Leo's thoughts turned to a new path, to the new automaton him and his dad had been researching. The Capitol had recently issued a new weapons-tech factory and lab, and his family, or what was left of it, had been positioned in there. Leo wasn't complaining, but now he'd have to die in a stupid arena, he'd never see the prototype, Festus, turn to reality.  
Unless he won.  
But he wouldn't.

At an the abrupt sound of cheering, Leo snapped out of his thought bubble. Pressing his face against the strangely warm window, he saw crowds. Lots of them. All craning for a glimpse of the new tributes. A bit like sizing up the metaphorical pig before it went to slaughter.  
 _Metaphorical, because I am_ _ **not**_ _a pig!_ Leo thought indignantly. _I am a perfectly awesome human being!_

And with that, he waved as hard as he knew how out the window, taking all the attention off the surly Sienna and onto him, wiggling one hand around like a lunatic and grinning from ear to ear.  
 _Come sponsor meeeee!_  
Leo made up a little song in his head, even dancing around to it and blowing kisses out the window.  
 _Come sponsor the awesome Leo! Send him back to District 3!_  
And the Capitol people were certainly _loving_ the Leo! They all blew him kisses back, roared their approval and pressed so close to the window, he could have opened it and smacked them all silly.  
He kept this up until the train slowed down, the crowds were forced away, and he was pushed down a blue- paved street by Peacekeepers, onto a green one, and inside the doors of the Tribute Remake Centre. His smile fell as the doors slammed shut, and he was lead away into a startlingly orange room.


	5. Annabeth 3

Standing straight, exaggerating what little height she had, Annabeth stood in the middle of a tiny blue-and-pink room the the remake centre, a shower head above her, tools of all kinds littering the walls and three Capitol idiots twittering about her dreadful state, circling her and teetering on stupid heels whilst they complained.

" Such dry hair!" The tiny one in the massive green dress squeaked, accompanying her comment with a jerking quiver.  
"Not the fashionable shade at all!" Another warbled in return, orange and blue wig on the verge of tumbling to the floor.  
The third, a mean-looking strip of a whiteish-clearish solid dangling from her turquoise-taloned hand, decided she'd join in too.  
"The hair! It's the same with them all!" She fussed. "All over them and hanging in big clumps from their heads! No care!"  
Annabeth may have been on the verge of slapping them, but the application of the aforementioned whiteish strip to her leg caused her to look down in alarm. What on earth was that?

She was answered very quickly when the one in the silly wig pulled it straight back off again, taking loads of hair off Annabeth's leg with it.  
"Ouch!" Annabeth screamed, more as an expression of shock than pain, but the three stylists stared at her in surprise of their own.

"It just _leg wax!",_ Turquoise-Talons piped up. "We use it all the time!"  
"Yeah!", agreed Green-Dress. " It doesn't hurt that much!"

Annabeth bit her lip to stop herself from retorting. If they wanted to be so patronising, why didn't _they_ volunteer for the games? Though come to think of it, Annabeth would soon be facing much, much worse than hair-destroying _wax_. And if she complained about that...  
Annabeth's thoughts completely left the remake centre and focused in the arena instead. In her minds eye, desert plains with nowhere to hide, thickly wooded forests with hidden pools that fell into unfathomable depths and plains of freezing, sub-zero spikes, rose, filled with the most violent of tributes, and proceeded to haunt her mind. A million " what-if" s flew around in such a frenzy it physically hurt. The prep team probably thought she was mad, hitting her head off her hands and moaning, but they just pulled more and more leg hair off her, ignoring everything but their high-pitched gossip and the work ahead.

What hope did she have? She'd be dead by the bloodbath, blood pooling around her head inside one of those terrible, currently fictitious, arenas. Tributes running past her, just glad it wasn't them.  
What was the point in dressing her up now, then?

The blonde girl sighed as large amounts of a smelly liquid were squirted into her hair by one... _Person_ , and her nails were scraped at by the other two.

Would they ever learn?

She didn't think so.


	6. Jason

_Eyes forward Jason. Act like they aren't there. You're better than the lot of them._  
Jason started fixedly ahead, ignoring the jerking of the chariot that encompassed him on three sides. He ignored the crowds, the way his costume's lightning bolts cut into his arms and legs and the thump of the drums that made his eardrums pulse in a faintly dangerous way.

But most of all, he ignored the stunning other in the glaring white chariot with him.

 _Piper. It_ was the name on all the tongues of the district 5 boys. He should know, he'd heard it often enough, whispered like a holy prayer. _Piper._ She'd talked to him before, sure. Laughed with him. But otherwise, he'd been ignored as fully as he was doing to the Capitol crowds. _Piper._ And now, she was facing her death right next to him.

 _Piper._ Oh Gods, if he had to spend his last minutes with someone, he was glad it would be her.

Looking like the perfect little tribute, Jason raised one hand regally towards the crowds, the sunlight flashing off his costume, giving the crowd his stylists desired effect. He chanced a glimpse to his right; Piper was copying him, waving to the crowd, but looking totally removed. Her hair was escaping from the stupid cloud-hat, that she managed to make look so cute... Her eyes were focused right ahead, colour changing from stormy grey to a lighter, friendlier blue as she opened up towards the crowd.

But she never once turned to look at him.

Giving a minuscule sigh, Jason stopped watching her out the corner of his eye, and fixed both _globes occulaires_ firmly on the chariot in front of him, focusing on the district 4 tributes, who both had black hair that gleamed in the Capitol sun. Their matching outfits of blue and green silk made them look like twins.  
 _Maybe they are._ Jason thought to himself sadly. _It's not beyond the Capitol to rig the reaping balls for a better show. Maybe that's why Pipes is here._  
He dared another glance towards her. She was still waving, breathing deeply and clinging to the side of the chariot in a death grip.

 _Is she scared?_

Jason swallowed, and gently poked Piper in the side, before shouting over the noise at her:  
"Urrrrggg... Ummm... Piper? Are you ok there? Do you think you're going to fall out?"  
Thankfully, she didn't seem to hear his indecision at the start.  
"M'all right! She shouted back, beautiful blue eyes gazing right into his. "It is a bit-"  
The chariot gave a particularly violent lurch.  
"Bumpy though!" She looked like she was going to be sick.  
"HERE!" Jason grabbed her shoulder in an attempt to steady her a bit. It seemed to work as she placed her previously waving hand over his.  
"Thanks Jason." She said seriously, before abandoning her attempts to wave and just clinging to Jason with one hand and the chariot edge with the other.

A particularly tense half-hour later, Jason was having to help a rather wobbly Piper out the chariot, back in the remake centre. She had clung to him for the entire ride, not stopping even when the cameras turned to them. He was sure it had sparked off gossip in the Capitol - a perfect, really pretty girl clinging onto her counterpart? Not exactly anything they would ignore.

Piper made a few attempts to walk, but ended up lying back in his arms, blinking up at him.

Jason wasn't sure he could breathe. The dirty-white stone walls seemed to be closing in on him.

"Umm... Jason?" She blushed prettily.

"Urrr... Pipes?"

"Can you, ya'know, help me a little?"

Jason _really_ couldn't breathe now.

"Sure thing Pipes. Sure thing."


	7. Piper

No-one had even _looked_ at her.

When the district 5 chariot had rolled out into the streets, most of the attention had still been on district 1's jewelled robes. They _were_ kind of nice, but with District 2's huge war helmets taking all and any remaining attention, Piper had simply been a small figure in a stupid storm-cloud costume.

So there went any sponsor chances.

She sighed almost longingly and collapsed onto the massive mound of mattress, blankets, sheets and pillows in the middle of her massive room. It wasn't even that nice. The walls were a strange gold and purple mix with ugly patterns appearing in odd places. All the furniture was a fake golden colour and inlaid with equally fake gems.

 _Real doesn't appear to be wasted on mere tributes_

All the voice activated services just mocked her. She'd never seen them before, and never would have. She didn't know how to use them.  
 _And wouldn't,_ she promised, surprising herself. _There's no point! I'll be dead before too long._

Piper decided to distract herself before her thought turned as morbid as they had been previously.

She flicked through the expansive purple-metal wardrobe, trying to find something suitably shocking to wear to training the next day. After all, if everyone else was grouching around in silly baggy trousers and their equally baggy training shirts, she could at least stick out.

She needed _confidence!_ She needed _style!_ She needed...

Something that wasn't in the wardrobe.  
She had found a row of matching training shirts in navy blue, with 'McLean, 5' printed on the back in white, several pairs of trousers that could have housed an elephant or two inside, and three pairs of long shorts.

 _Ah well. Nothing scissors can't fix._

The next morning, Piper woke bright and early. She hummed as she floated around, picking up her newly adjusted training outfit, smoothing out the creases, having a shower whilst it steamed, then tweaking, chopping and fixing until she was pleased. Fixing her hair into it's choppy plaits in the style of her district, she ordered breakfast through the speakers. No-one was seeing anything until her _big reveal._

 _But, let's just get this straight. I do not like fashion. Nor will I ever. This is just for sponsor chances._

Because if there was one thing Piper wanted to avoid in life, it was ending up like her mother, sighing over every peek of Capitol life she could get.

 _It would be worth dying in the Games to get to see the Capitol first,_ was what she always used to say. But funnily enough, Piper thought she'd rather stay at home.  
_

Fashionably late, Piper strutted into the training chamber in a manner representative of her mother. She was wearing the shorts, cut so small they were barely visible. Her knotted-into-a-crop-top 'McLean, 5' shirt showed off a tiny flat stomach, a sign of starvation in the districts, but of fashion in the Capitol.

All the cameras turned towards Piper, as the training leader cut her speech to marvel at Pipers guts at walking into the room like that.

Jason's mouth hung open like he'd lost all muscle control in his jaw. The same had happened to most of the male tributes too, along with some of the people on the stations.

 _And that. Is an entrance._


	8. Hazel

I'm scared. Just to get that out there.

When mine and Frank's names were called... I don't know. I just couldn't _breathe._ And I'm district 1, career pack, whatever you want to call those with a 'better' chance of winning. Loads of others were _desperate_ for the place on the stage, but with the onslaught of volunteers we got last year, when the fights broke out, they said no more.

But now, after the horror that was the chariot ride, we have training. We've got to talk to those from 2 and 4. I don't want to talk to a bunch of kill-crazy tributes.

But I guess I'm going to have to.

Walking into the metallic-walled training centre, I see only a small bunch of tributes have arrived. Both from 2 and 4 are here, worst luck. The guy from three is tapping his fingers on a metal pillar, the 8 girl is fiddling with her sandy-blonde hair, staring at him, and a small girl from 11 is trying to climb up the vines in the camouflage unit by stringing them through the light fittings. Then there's me and Frank. A lovely little group.

Training starts when a few more have dribbled in. The woman in charge starts talking about all the stuff we already knew, all the stuff we were taught on our first day of district training. The non-career tributes are staring up at her with huge, wide eyes. They don't want to miss a thing. Frank's watching her too, but more out of politeness than need. He's one of the hopefuls to win this game. Our mentor felt like telling us.

Finally, when we're allowed to go and start the workshops, I remember the advice given this morning:

 _Show off. Make sure they know what they're up against._

Should I? Frank wandered off towards sword-fighting, something he was widely known for back home. I should probably head there too, but what's the point of just doing something you can already do? Taking a deep breath in and stealing myself, I head over to knives.

"... very useful in a fight." The man leading the workshop is saying. " Lighter and quicker than a sword, not to mention you can throw them too."

"Useful." I murmur.

The girl next to me whips her head round, glossy black plait swinging over her shoulder.

Reyna. The girl from four.

Blushing, I turn to face the man speaking again, but I feel her gaze on me. I think she knows I haven't done much of this before.

We're just getting onto correct hand positions, when the lift doors ping open to reveal two tributes.

The guy looks a bit red, and sneaks off towards the hunting station, but the girl saunters into the middle of the room, eyes flickering over every one of us.

She's dressed in her training clothes, sure. But the navy shirt was now a crop, cut on an angle like some Capitol women have it. She's in the shorts, despite the fact it's quite a cool day. But even then, she's somehow stitched them up to be extremely tight and so short it's indecent. Of course, they're lopsided with the material unraveling throughout, but she looks a lot more memorable than she did on the chariot ride.

I say that because I don't remember her.

Well, now I will.

I wonder if that's what she wanted.

Hats off to you then, Miss McLean.


	9. Jason 2

Piper might be beautiful, but she sure was embarrassing.

I was ready, on time, dressed in what I found in my wardrobe. Piper turned up almost an hour later, in stuff that would not look out of place on Capitol teenagers.

We made our way down together, me with my fingers crossed that they wouldn't notice us coming in.

Everyone's eyes were glued to us when the lift doors opened. I ran off to the nearest station and hid behind a career-pack blonde girl. They make quite good shields.

Piper, on the other hand, did this weird hip-swingy walk right through the middle of the room. I thought she was _nice_. A practical but pretty girl. But then, she just looked like a Capitol-wannabe.

She's getting loads of praise now, everyone saying "What a good stunt!" and "That will pull the sponsors in!" I suppose so, but the districts won't be too pleased. At home, they'll be saying how she's "Just like her good-for-nothing mother!" I wish she hasn't got the publicity. Home will reject her if she wins, even though we haven't had a victor for years.

I'd rather take the death. I don't think I'd be able to take it if Dakota and Gwen considered me a traitor.

Piper mustn't care.

Piper might survive a little longer than I do.

The next week of training passes like a blur. My last full week alive; it's strange how quickly the time seems to pass. More and more decadent food finds its way into our bellies, more fighting techniques to our heads and more fear to our minds. The fog clouding the last week won't lift even if I step outside into the bright Capitol lights. And before I realise training has become routine, we suddenly have our final day. Interviews.

It's obvious how Piper is going to be shown: that girl is sexy beyond belief. I saw her dress too, a tiny pink thing made almost entirely of sheer stuff with holes. Her finished product is far, far better than anything I could imagine being. I'm in a stiff blue suit like the ones Capitol men wear for special occasions and just told to answer nicely and be polite. They want me to help Piper up stairs and be a gentleman to all the girls.

They would be so lucky.

Our mentor and escort spent he whole day preparing for this, one by checking we knew what we were doing and helping quell the nerves, and the other talking to other escorts to make sure we were being original. She came back with a shifty look on her face and never made another comment all day, so I think both of us could tell _exactly_ how successful our live interviews would be. But finally, the moment comes when we are all neatly lined up outside the stage doors in district order, girl before boy. The district six pair are defiantly strange: the boy never looked up from underneath his long black hair, and the girl had strange silvery hair and was dressed completely in grey. Four couldn't have been more of opposite, the boy being in a shapely blue suit and the girl in a long, swirling red dress. At least they're making polite conversation, most people are just standing there, as lost as I am.

Piper isn't. She's already talking dresses to the 8 girl, Callie-something. You can hear her piercing voice from where she's standing, out of line. The poor girl looks a bit confused. Not out of lack of things to say, but out of lack of reason as to Piper's sudden interest in her. Pipes has talked to everyone over the cause of training, even chatting to the escorts and workshop trainers. All the public love her to bits. It's such a shame no-one else does.

Eventually, a woman in a green wig and a few pieces of green fabric pushes Piper back into line, shushes us all and begins to call us out onto the stage. The first girl, Hazel Levesque, appears to be the most lovable person any of us will ever have met. I'd believe that when I see her fight. Her district partner, Frank is pretty much the same.

Then there's a smart girl and fighter-boy from two, a really funny guy called Leo from 3, Reyna from 4 who acts like a queen, then Piper, who seems to have the whole of the Capitol under her thumb from her first seductive word.

Then me.

I wave as I head on stage, slightly early as planned to I can be seen helping Piper down the steps back into our little corridor. I'm sick-nervous, and must look it too, as Phorcys - a Capitol man with a trademark sparkle suit and water-coloured hair - proceeds to try and ease me into my interview, asking if I like the food, like my costumes, like any of the other tributes. I start by just agreeing, sweating in fear under the heat of the lights, but before I know it, he's actually got me talking about my hopes for the games, my family at home, my opinions on the tributes. I'm there, under a deep blue spotlight, talking about how I expect the Sherman guy to win, how I don't approve of Piper's costumes, how I originally though that Reyna and Percy - the four tributes - were twins. Phorcys has a good laugh at that one. We both agree that their stylists dressed them so differently for the interviews on purpose. And when the buzzer sounds, I begin actually wanting to stay. I shake the presenters hand and slowly jog off the side of the stage, respectfully stepping aside for the grey 6 tribute.

Ecstatically, I run off down the corridor, past the line of waiting tributes, and straight into the lift. I jab the little '5' and shoot upwards.

"Jason!" Piper shrieks, the moment the doors open. She runs towards me, catching me off guard in a flying tackle hug, her legs wrapping themselves around my waist. "Jason!" She shouts again. "Jason you were brilliant!"

Much as I might be enjoying it, I disentangle her from my upper body, aware that both my escort and mentor, Luke, are watching. The latter with a grin on his face.

"I think you were the one with the Capitol under your thumb Piper. I just answered questions."

"You were truthful."

"So? Everyone else was too."

"Yours actually meant something. Everything you said, you meant. That's rare, Jason. That's really rare."

Piper looks up at me with her rainbow eyes. I smile at her.

"Piper McLean, were you looking for an ally?"


	10. Reyna

"This is it, Reyna. Good luck."

"Thanks you." I say, my voice seemingly out of sync with my mouth. "I'll remember everything you taught me."

My mentor starts walking back through the door, trying to cover the fact she's weeping. Her footsteps sound off the metal floor.

I feel like weeping too.

Presently, my stylist appears through the steel door, dressed in something ridiculous and slamming said door eagerly behind her. She's dragging what looks like a whole suitcase of clothes over the step and my stomach does flips until I can practically smell the blood in the air. This actually _is_ it.

Slowly, Danalin helps me into the layers and layers of thick and fluffy clothing. A huge white coat with a black lining fits snugly over the top of numerous shirts and undershirts. Massive boots, bursting with some kind of fur, are reverently placed onto my thickly socked feet, and I even get a warm face-mask. The arena must be seriously cold. I've never seen tributes dressed quite like this. Danalin even takes the time to spray my braid with something she says will keep it in as a last act of kindness, before taking my hands and telling me she's rooting for me.

She sends me to the bathroom when the 2-minute warning comes up, and gives me a cup of water. By this point I'm not even properly controlling my actions. I just do what my stylist says, and only managed to nod my thanks when she slips a sugary biscuit with pretty icing into my coat pocket.

I'm loaded onto the plate and get ready to go up, my hands clutching a small golden ring - the one part of home that I can take into the arena. I hope my sister's watching. I know it killed her, not being able to volunteer for me. But I wouldn't have wanted her to. Hylla deserves to live her life.

"20 seconds." Announces the speakers. Danalin gives me a sympathetic look. I just stand there, closing my eyes.

"15 seconds"

 _What was I thinking?_

"10"

 _This can't be happening!_

"9"

The glass slides down around me.

"8"

Danalin gives me a thumbs-up.

"7"

 _I love you Hylla._

"6"

 _This is for you._

 _"5"_

 _"4"_

 _"3"_

 _"2"_

 _Goodbye_

 _"1"_

 _I hold no regrets._

The plate beneath my feet begins to rise.

I rise through several feet of gleaming silver steel until I'm blinking, standing on a metal plate in the middle of an Ice World.

Seriously, the floor is made from ice and snow, there are mountains of ice, cliffs made from it, and nothing else. Nothing green or plant-like or man-made. _Nothing._

Survival must depend on the bloodbath then.

The cornucopia is shining gold in a land of white and silver, as out of place as I was in the Capitol. Unnatural. We all stand equidistant, supplies and food laid out around us, thicker and more plentiful as you get closer to the horn. I spot a clear box of fruit near me. Some use, sure. But the packs of meat and the fire kit in the centre are more my thing. I just need my eyes on the prize, and with the pre-prepared alliance of 6 of us, getting it should be quite easier. The guy from 3 and the girl from 8 are on each side of me, but both 2 tributes are quite close, so we should be able to fight off any attackers from our side.

Sure enough, when the countdown finishes with a bang, us three run in together, the girl passing us a few knives each. I position myself near the entrance, and nail one young boy between the shoulder blades right away.

It makes a sickening sound and I almost cry out at my new kill, before remembering that this is what I was _trained_ to do. And this is what I must do, to bring glory to my district.

So I narrow my eyes and take my second throw.

Bang in the chest.

My allies aren't doing too badly either. Percy and the 1 tributes have joined us now in the mouth, leaving the little scraps further away to the rest. The boy and girl who started off next to me have disappeared. I can't see them among the dead.

Strangely, that makes me happy.

Most of the others have run off now, taking the small pickings, but a few still stand and fight. The 12 boy - Octavian I think - is trying to take on the 2 boy. The sound of splintering bones inevitably comes, and I watch Octavian fall to the frozen ground out the corner of my eye, his head smashed in.

He shouldn't have tried.

I send another knife at a blonde kid, cussing when it misses. Silently, Percy passes me a golden sword from a small pile behind us and tilts his head towards the kid. I run out towards the blonde guy, hating the look of fear on his face as he realises I'm coming for him. He starts to run, but the sword cleaves cleanly through his back, puncturing organs and pushing him to the ground. The snow is stained with his blood, falling in sticky pools around him as he spasms, dropping his flask of water.

I should kneel down, hold his hand whilst he dies. But _I_ inflicted this. And I should be proud of it. My fifth kill, and the bloodbath isn't even over. The sponsors should love me. _I_ should love me for this. I'm doing well for my district.

Several more attacks are made on us, none succeeding. I mean, the Careers have always worked well together at the start. It's just afterwards we start turning on each other. More bodies are added to the scene. More trophies pile up for us. Food, water, weapons and even a massive tent. It might not fit all of us though.

After only what I judge to be a few hours, tributes stop trying to sneak anywhere close to the horn. All of them have either run off, far off into the surrounding mountains, or are lying motionless in the snow. The coats are good, I've decided. I can barely feel the cold from under it.

 _They can't feel anything. They're dead._

I scowl.

 _Shut up Reyna._

Percy takes the lead, dragging the blueish-white tent a few metres away from the Cornucopia. The 1 tributes follow him, picking up large packs of food and a few choice weapons. The rest of us take whatever looks useful.

We begin setting up camp _._ The tent is just about big enough for us all, and has some very good hidden spy-holes. We chose weapons and start practising, drawing targets in the snow.

The helicopters come for the bodies, and I count them. 9 near us, and maybe some more in the background.

By mid-afternoon, Career Camp is completed. The curly-haired 1 girl begins to prepare some of the ready-cooked meat. We sit to eat as a group, gnawing on our food without care for manners.

Names are shared as we make stiff conversation. The 1 tributes are Frank and Hazel, 2 are Sherman and Annabeth. Sherman looks the worst out of all of us. Him and Frank may be equal in size and skill, but the former has that look in his eyes that you come to recognise from watching the Games. The one you see in the eyes of those who pound skulls in, kill without mercy and even manage to put on a good show on purpose. The ones who betray anyone. Kill anyone.

He needs to be dealt with.

We finish eating and sit outside in a circle around the tent, waiting for signs of hidden tributes. We take it in turns to nap.

So when Sherman's head finally sinks to his chest, and his eyes close, I get up and stab him. Right in the heart. His blood gushes over my hand, but I plunge it in deeper, willing myself never to waver.

His eyes never open again.

The four others watch me in horror, drawing their weapons.

"He would have killed us all." I speak clearly. "He would have betrayed and stabbed every single one of us."

Annabeth nods slowly.

"I had the same idea." She said slowly.

Frank grunts uncomfortably.

I sit back down.

"Return to watching now please. We wouldn't want to mess this up now."

But I think I have messed it up. I saved them, but I might not have saved me.

Sometimes I forget these people are killers too.


	11. Piper 2

I have three allies.

Me and Jason had already agreed to, so when he signalled his hand towards the blue mountain in what I judged to be the west, we both ran for it, only pausing to grab a few supplies near us. I got a white sleeping bag, a box of fruit and a very small, fairly useless-looking knife.

Jason had just scooped up what ever was closest, grabbed my hand, and ran with me, leaping over heaps of ice and snow, until the cornucopia was a distant gleam below us.

We weren't too far away from the bloodbath when we slowed down, but we walked as fast as we could up out of sight, stopping only when we found a large snowdrift under a steep bit. Jason - being the gentleman be is - helped me sit down behind the large pile of snow, our frozen backs to the golden horn. Even the air seemed to have ice in it, only melting as I breathed it in. My ally showed me his pickings - a small water-skin with no warm cover - a few trickles of ice lurked in the bottom - and an extremely strange looking hat, navy blue with ear flaps and fur inside.

We laughed quietly at the hat. It's strange how we can still find Capitol fashion funny when we're both slowly freezing in an arena full of murderous tributes. Jason slowly peels back my hood, exposing my face to the sharp, cold wind. I shiver. But he gently places the blue hat over my head, re-adjusting my mask when it slips. I hate these masks. All you have to identify the tributes by is body, hair and eyes. And that could be a fatal mistake. Still, I grin at my companion and pull the monstrosity further over my head, replacing the hood over the top.

We pack our various pickings into the numerous pockets in our coats and jumpers, the side ones in Jason's trousers almost fitting everything we have. But we agree to share, in case one of us gets lost or loses something.

 _Or dies._

The sleeping bag gets bundled as small as it will go, and we take it in turns lugging it up the mountain. Up and up and up we go, the scenery never changing. Tiny figures fight by a golden smudge, and dark red stains the snow where we started.

"Piper?" Jason asks, his voice hushed.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think the ice around here is safe to drink?

I considered it.

"Well it is ice. Maybe."

"It could have been Game-Maker poisoned if it isn't naturally."

"The whole arena would have to be poisoned then. I doubt it."

"I hope you're right."

Jason filled his water skin with some surrounding snow from the ground. It's all still freshly white, so it's probably ok. He gives it a nervous glance before drinking down some of the snow. He shudders.

"It's really cold, probably altered to make it like that. But I think it's alright."

He passes me the skin and I take a gulp.

It's not just cold, it's terrible. It seems to freeze everything it passes, all the way down my insides. My companion squeezes my hand.

"It's really bad isn't it."

"Well." I square my shoulders. "It's bad, but we need to drink!" And I march up the mountainside, gesturing for Jason to follow me.

We stop only when we're half way down the other side of the mountain, eating a strange, round, orange fruit each as we go. To our joy, the back of the mountain was full to the brim of little ice caves, some apparently part of a huge system, as Jason showed by walking inside one and coming out of another, and some only big enough for one person. The sun's going down now, but at least it isn't getting any colder. I scout around on our level for a sensible place. We don't want to risk going into the cave system and getting lost, or discovered by the Careers. But neither do we want to be visible from the outside.

Our final decision isn't perfect, but it fills both criteria. The cave is extremely thin and very long, going straight toward the front of the ice hill, almost coming out the other side. We settle down at the back of it, Jason having collected more snow-water. A fire would be glaringly obvious here, not just because of the smoke and light, but it would burn any ice up, maybe even cause the mountainside to collapse. So we carry on with fruit, agreeing to share one twice a day from now on. Neither of us wants to say 'until one or both of us die.'

When the Capitol anthem begins to play, we scuttle to the front of the cave and stare into the sky. The boy from 2 died. The girl from 3. 4 survived, us for 5 too. The girl from 6 went, same for 7. The boy from 8. No-one from 9 or 10 or 12 survived, but surprisingly those from 11 have.

The sky goes black as we simultaneously begin counting the tributes up on our fingers.

11 dead. That's almost half of us.

I turn to look at Jason, but his expression is the same as mine. Sick. All those people died. Children who had homes and families. Girlfriends and Boyfriends. There was a married girl on the Games once, a few years ago. She was still forced to stand with the other 18-year-olds at the reaping, and no-one volunteered for her. She died in the bloodbath I think.

I lead the way back into the cave, wishing we could conceal the entrance better. I'm guessing that the Careers are in their camp by the cornucopia, but the other tributes are probably hidden in the caves, just like us. Some will probably have better weapons than a small knife between two. Jason lays down the sleeping bag for me, expecting me to get in it.

"You go in." I whisper. "I've got a hat."

"I insist." He grins.

I unbutton my coat and take off my hat, throwing them at Jason. He begins to protest, but I interrupt him.

"I won't go in if you don't."

Grumbling at me, he pulls the hat on and spreads the coat over his belly. I snuggle down into the bag, running my hand over the thick, soft fur insulating the inside. It doesn't take long for us to fall asleep.

Or wake up again. A piercing scream fills the air, and light suddenly floods into our cave. Someone's coming.

Jason jumps up.

"Careers!" He whispers harshly, taking my hands in his, squeezing them gently, preparing to die.

But it isn't Careers, it's a small, scrawny boy with madly curly hair, holding a burning belt in his hand. He crouches down up front of us, extinguishing the flame by hitting it against the cave wall. It fizzles out immediately. Another figure, too dainty for a Career, follows not too long behind him.

We hear voices outside, two boys and a girl, grumbling about losing their prey.

"He must be here somewhere."

"He had a bloody fire you idiots! He can't be that hard to find!"

"Oi! Watch who you're calling a bloody idiot!"

"Do you think him and that girly are still together?"

The girl outside snorted. "Did you hear her scream? She totally went a different way. She probably followed him like a little lamb!"

They screech with laughter at that one. The girl in question hangs her head.

"I think we went down." One of the boys speculates. " Mebbee put his fire out."

"Lead the way."

The Career pack stomps off, stamping footsteps fading off into the distance.

The new boy and girl turn to face us in the dark.

"T - thanks." The boy says shakily. "They found us on the next mountain over. We got chased."

"Whisper!" I say quietly. "That wasn't all of them, and they aren't too far away."

"We didn't see the faces in the sky." The girl says, still clutching the boy's arm. "We were trying to hide. We're Calypso and Leo by the way. I'm from 8, he's from 3."

"Do you have any supplies? Weapons? Food?" Jason asks.

"I got some matches!" Pipes up Leo. "Callie here has some food and water. Did you know the snow is perfectly safe to drink?"

"Yeah. It's horrible though."

"True." Leo frowns.

Jason interrupts. "Do you two want to stay here for a bit? We could share supplies and work something out in the morning."

"Sure." Calypso whispers gratefully.

They begin to curl up on the floor, but I offer to share the sleeping bag with Calypso, so she does the same thing of giving Leo her coat. The boys make a few jokes about being hard done by, but we all give in to sleep soon enough.


	12. Calypso

knew I shouldn't love the arena, but I did.

There was a low circle in the middle where the horn was, then a perfect ring of eight mountains around it, then miles and miles of flat ice, then a gleaming deep sapphire sea. The ice shone and sparkled in the early-morning sun. We should be getting some sort of warmth now, but the sun didn't seem to give out heat. The catacombs, caves and tunnels glistened and glittered. It was beautiful, but someone with large, shiny weapons could be very close to us here. We wouldn't know.

Me and Leo hadn't known yesterday. We had wanted to get out of the Careers's way, but Leo and I had walked so slowly. We hadn't even considered where to sleep until it was almost pitch-black. We had headed over to a large cave in the mountainside, only to be met in the entrance with three grinning faces illuminated in Leo's firelight. Two boys and a girl. Three weapons had gleamed. I screamed and Leo pulled me away, we ran, but they had been effortlessly catching up, only lagging behind to savour their kill. But Leo dragged us into a cave with a very thin entrance and they lost us. We hadn't seen Jason and Piper inside until it was much too late to hide anywhere else. But they let us stay with them for last night. Piper had even shared her warm sleeping bag with me.

When I'd woken up so early this morning, I'd decided to repay them with breakfast. Leo had discovered that the ice and snow didn't melt in fire, so lighting one in the cave was ok.

I fished Leo's box of matches out of his pocket and struck one. The same one we had been using yesterday - you never know how long the Games will take. A few rags off one of my thinner jumpers caught fire, and the snow around it stopped the fire spreading. Perfect.

I dug around in my supplies. The water would be nicer slightly heated, so I slowly placed the skin in the flames. It didn't burn, but the tips of my fingers might when I was getting it back out. A few precious slices of uncooked meat were in my coat pocket, so I held them over the flames. It might be the only good breakfast we would get. There didn't look much along the lines of animals or plants here. The workshops I'd so meticulously taken at training suddenly seemed pretty useless.

The other boy, Jason, stirred slightly as I shuffled around the fire. I placed a slightly warm hand on his forehead to keep him asleep. He turned over and settled down, shivering in his coat on the hard ground. I'd had to take mine back off Leo when I got up. The cold was terrible.

When the meat looked cooked through, I arranged it into four small portions on the floor and gingerly covered my hand with my coat to get the water skin out of the pitiful fire. I tried it immediately when I found that it wasn't actually as warm as I thought it might be. The water was still cold, but nowhere near as bad as straight from the ground.

It was a bit pointless now to wait for them to wake up, so I took Jason's tiny knife from next to his face and waited in the entrance of the cave, feeling thankful that the coats are white. No-one appeared at all. It wasn't likely that they would, seen as there were 7 other mountains to choose from, not to mention that the Careers didn't openly hunt people in daylight. At a guess, the three from last night would be napping whilst the other - 2? - kept watch.

Leo woke up first.

"Hello sunshine!" He whispered brightly. "Is that breakfast you've so lovingly prepared for us all?"

"Yes it is!" I walked over and slapped his hands away from the meat. "Wait until Jason and Piper wake up first - they deserve it!"

"You're so bossy, Sunshine!" Leo yawned and stretched out. "Nice fire you got going there." He poked at it, despite my telling him he'd burn his fingers. "You burn your knickers in that?" He grinned, looking at the burnt strips of my jumper.

"No I did not! And be careful or yours will be on the next fire!"

"You two argue like an old married couple!" Piper sat up suddenly, bleary eyed. "And you've only known each other about a week!"

I huffed. Leo had accidentally set me on fire at the workshop in training. He hadn't stopped apologising, then dragged me off at the start of the Games. Awesome friendship there.

The fire guy in question just stretched his smile out even wider.

"Let's wake Jason." Piper decides. "We need to work something out. We can't just stay here and talk."

After a few prods and pokes, Jason's eyes shoot open and we pull on the correct coats and sit around the fire.

"We could all stay together." Piper ventures. "I mean, we're doing better as a four already."

Leo munches on his chicken.

"Yeah Beauty Queen, but it makes us a huge great target, doesn't it? The Careers spot us again, and BAM!"

"Don't shout, Leo!" Three of us whisper in sync.

"Yeah yeah. Working on it."

We argue quietly for a while. Me and Piper are all for staying together, but the boys think it would be a disadvantage. ("No offence, bro!")

Finally, I decide that a compromise is in order. We agree to split into me and Leo, and Jason and Piper again, but if we see each other in the arena, we'll help each other, share supplies and provide shelter. Jason even says the unspeakable - that if one of us dies, their partner will immediately find - and be taken in by - the other pair. We make Leo's 'District 3 Bro Promise' - where he makes us waffle off a lot of stuff about never giving up on each other. We don't mind though.

By midday, I say that me and Leo really must go if we want to find somewhere to shelter. Piper hugs me so tight I almost start crying. I've only properly known her for a few hours and yet I've never had a friend like her. Jason and Leo hit each other on the back, and we all walk to the cave edge.

Piper gasps, and before I can ask if she's ok, I see that she's seen.

Huge, massive white bears patrol the flat plains around the back of the mountains. They walk so uniformly and pace along in a line around the edge, circling the arena. Mutts. They must have been around the other side yesterday.

Leo makes to step outside.

Huge mistake.

The eyes of every single bear fix onto us, blue orbs unnaturally large and pale. They break their line and pound up the mountain towards us, gargantuan paws pounding whilst the land beneath us shakes. Ice splinters into my eyes.

Jason grabs me and Piper, pushing us back through into the back of the cave. Leo follows behind. Maybe, just maybe, they won't be able to get in.

We've barely got inside when the mouth of the cave explodes into piles of snow. The walls shudder and break. We don't have time to run. Leo and Jason stand in front of us, bodies bundled in coats, but that's nothing against those horrible bears. Their heads appear, snapping and snarling through the snowstorm they've started up.

 _This is it._

Leo takes my hand. Jason does the same to Piper.

I'm still holding the tiny knife from earlier, so I brandish it at the bears. I swear they're smiling greedily at us. One of them looks right at me, at the small flash of silver in my hand. And he swallows it. Both my knife and my hand.

The pain is excruciating, my wrist is on fire with needles and sledgehammers going at it, whilst my head's gone so dizzy I can't phantom proper facts. I stumble against Leo and almost pass out.

In my delirious dream, a bear's claw slices through Leo. Instead of blood from the wound, a huge bronze dragon bursts forth.

 _I'm coming back to you Calypso. I swear it on the River Styx._

I don't know where the words come from. I've never even heard of a River Styx before. I just know that the words are important. Leo said them.

I look through the now-blue snow, falling although it fell ages ago. A bear lunges, but it's alright. I'm dreaming. It won't hit me.

Someone screams my name. A girl. Zoe? No. I haven't seen Zoe for too long. She disappeared years ago.

Piper.

I see her throw herself in front of the bear, but it's ok. I'm 10 years old, sitting there home and listening to my older sister talk. I don't know any girl called Piper.

Now someone else is shouting at me, a boy this time.

 _Leo! I think giddily. Leo! I'm coming!_

And with that, I collapse.


	13. Frank

This wasn't going well at all. First I get pulled into the bloodbath, sending arrows at young kids. Then that crazy Reyna girl killed Sherman. Then me, Annabeth and Percy set out at night to go kill more kids. We almost got two, but the boy dragged his little girlfriend away and disappeared off the face of the earth. It hadn't been until the sun came back up that we realised exactly how many caves were in the mountain, and by then we were far away from where they'd been.

Annabeth had caught hold of a girl at about 3 o clocking the morning, a small girl in huge rhinestone glasses who kicked like a small animal. She'd been hidden behind a snowdrift, a fire warming her fingers. Percy had stuck her himself, repeatedly stabbing until she went limp in Annabeth's grip. When the sun had come up, we'd just abandoned the task of finding any more, and set out for our camp again.

Hazel and Reyna had been left at camp to guard the supplies. I hadn't wanted to leave little Hazel with that killer, but there wasn't much I could do. I would be expected to kill her if it came down to it, so I just said nothing.

We'd stomped in to find them talking inside the tent, Reyna teaching Hazel better knife techniques, both of them snacking on a few apples each. The 4 girl looks up at us as we come in, her grip tightening on her knife. I grasp my sword hilt in return. I don't trust that girl.

But as Annabeth and Percy collapse into sleeping bags, Reyna announces that her and Hazel are going to go out and do some surprise scouting. I offer to go with them, but both girls wave it off. It's all I can do to stay put whilst they pack up and noisily leave the tent.

I lie down uncomfortably and try and sleep. But Hazel is _my_ business and I need to look after her.

So when I hear a noise like pure thunder, I bolt out of there and run full-pelt through the snow in the direction of the huge explosion.

I arrive too late, halting in the snow as I stare up, hopeless. I see a huge white bear chomping a girl's hand off, another raking its claws through the guy next to her. Then another girl with little plaits saves her friend, her throat cut in the horrible process. These must be the ones Reyna and Hazel had headed over to.

My _allies_ were trying to hide behind a snowdrift. But as another boy ran by, carrying the girl with sandy hair and one hand, the bears pounded over the top of the mountain and gave chase to them all.

Hazel. She needed to get out of there. Quickly.

But I was much too far away. And the mountain was crumbling.

The last glimpse I had of Hazel was her falling, the snow and ice collapsing inwards and taking her with it.

 _Hazel Levesque. She's dead._

Annabeth and Percy were running towards me, possibly shouting to tell me to help them, possibly just in anger. The Career pack had never been eliminated this fast, assuming the fast-sprinting Reyna didn't survive. The other two, I could see were heading diagonally. Apparently the boy had noticed that the mountains either side were untouched.

Reyna was just heading forwards, her eyes to the front, the bears never gaining but not falling any further behind either. Snow and ice flew from under her feet, whizzing over her head in dangerously large chunks. She couldn't possibly survive.

Sure enough, the mountain exploded.

The boy and girl were _just_ on the next hill, both flattened to the ground under the hail of ice chunks. Snow flew everywhere, landing around me and the other two. Hazel and Reyna must be buried under there. No-one could save them now.

The bears slowly retreat to behind the new pile of loose ice chunks, their eyes glowing, claws retreating into their massive snowy paws. They mustn't be very complicated, just bred to be killers.

But they killed Hazel. They killed _Hazel_. Her golden hair and sweet personality is buried under several tons of snow and ice.

Suddenly, all I want to do is hunt down and slice up every one of those bears.

Annabeth is surprisingly gentle about it, leading me back to the tent, pressing a warm flask into my hand. Percy just looks on awkwardly, tapping his foot and keeping watch. The Career pack of this year will forever be seen as a laughing stock. One dead in the bloodbath and two more fallen to mutts only 24 hours later. I don't think it's ever happened before, especially when you count in all the other districts too.

That's... Well, 11 dead yesterday, Hazel, Reyna and the little girl last night as well at least. Some more cannons went off just before Hazel's, so that's maybe about... 15 or 16 out. Only 8 or 9 of us left here.

Annabeth's saying something to Percy now, her hand brushing his like mine and Hazel's did. Her breath rises in mist and mingles into her blonde hair, tangling with Percy's until it fades to invisible. I can't hear what they're saying, but the few noises I can hear are loud. Far too loud.

The last girl Career hands me something else. Not a flask this time, but a water skin. Without thinking, I chug it all down, tasting a sweet sleep drug. I don't fight. Just this time, I let sleep win.

The morning after that is cold. Percy and Annabeth are talking again in serious voices. It doesn't bother me. Let them talk.

But they must see my silhouette through the silver tent flap. A dark head and a blonde head poke through, two bodies sit down either side of me. Annabeth takes my hands.

"Frank." She says seriously, swallowing slightly. "Frank..."

But she trails off, unable to carry on.

Percy puts it out bluntly.

"Reyna survived. We think she's hunting us."

My eyes roll back in my head.

 _Why not Hazel?_


	14. Jason 3

_Oh my god._

 _What just happened ?_

 _I can't blame Leo. He didn't know, and now he's dead. I can't blame Calypso. She's bleeding to death in an endless cave. I can't blame Piper. She's gone. Piper. Piper McLean. I can only blame myself. I remember she used to talk to me in school. She'd sit behind me. Who's in those seats now? No-one - it's the Games. They'll all be crying over Piper now. She must have had sponsors, just the money was being saved for the later they expected._

That night, 4 faces had appeared in the sky when the sun fell. The 1 girl, the one with the curls, came up first. Then Leo's sparky grin. Piper's beautiful eyes. A girl from 11 who could only have been about 12.

15 tributes were dead.

It's been two days since then, we're only four days in. We've been free of deaths since, but several horrible Gamemaker attacks have happened to almost everyone. New Mutts have appeared, undercover of a terrible snowstorm. They aren't as mechanical as the bears, these floppy, slimy, dog-like things that dwell in the cave systems. I've had to move the still-unconscious Calypso several times. An avalanche of snow pelted the area where the cornucopia is, but the Careers had moved camp. I don't know why. It's never happened before.

We have minimal food, so I've only given Callie water. Piper's sleeping bag and most of our stuff were destroyed in the attack, so we've been living off the stuff Calypso had in her pockets. It's not great, but better than nothing.

I snuggle down in my coat, nibbling on a piece of red, squashy fruit. A splash of colour in the bleak white. Calypso's remaining hand is still in mine. I never moved it, knowing Leo wouldn't have if he hadn't been a dead body in a wooden box. Piper would have been there for a friend. So I don't let go of Callie's hand, despite cold or lack of comfort.

She's dying, not just from the hand, but the shock of seeing those deaths, and possibly something in the bear's teeth - some sort of poison, perhaps. There's blood all over her and her breathing is so faint it's hardly there.

Are these Games even worth winning? I would have to go back knowing I saw Piper and Leo and Calypso die. I would have to make speeches in Districts 3 and 8. I would have to face home knowing I let Piper die. And what other horrors would I have to survive? The seal/dog mutts gave me a gash on my back I'm sure will scar, if I'm alive long enough. The snow courses though me like poison, damaging as much as it helps.

It's like we're all dancing some erratic, emotional, violent dance. And we're dancing it to the tune of our deaths, to the ones already dead, dancing to our families and our fears. The Capitol have hold of us and they aren't likely to let us go.

And suddenly, Callie's pulse is fading. I'm crying, clinging to her, holding her close like I would have done to Piper, whilst frozen mist clings around us. Because this is my last friend. And she's dying, her breath leaving, her pallor getting even worse.

And her chest stops moving, her hair falls backwards over her face and my tears fall too, pooling in the creases in my coat. She's not thinking anymore, not having to worry. Calypso isn't feeling the pain anymore. She can't see the world now. And that's not the only thing I envy her.

The canon goes off.

Her body is taken by a hovercraft. I watch her go, not moving until she's completely gone. Then I turn, the snow crackling and popping underfoot. I don't want to stay around here. New ground is in order. I must be brave whilst I still can.

My possessions on me, I set off over the mountains, aiming for the opposite side. The air freezes my tears onto my face and I skirt around the snowdrifts and caves. From what little I know, us eight remaining tributes are pretty widely spread. I've been staying to the west, where I know I can hide in the caves. The Careers shouldn't be too hard to find, just hard to get away from.

Who else is there? The four Careers, me, the guy from 6, I think, the black-haired one with the haunted eyes. The 7 guy too, the one that looked almost as mischievous as Leo. And... Someone else... I can't remember. Maybe he's a threat, maybe not. But I wouldn't like to get in the way of any of these people. We are down to the last eight. They say that's the time it gets interesting for a reason.

I camp in the topmost cave, a luckily shallow one. Calypso's picture appears in the sky, forgiving and heart-breaking.

Everyone must know the Games are on now. The Careers must be prepared. The other three will have weapons, traps, survival techniques. I have nothing. And if I had something, who says I would use it? All I've seen is death. I _never_ want to be the cause of it.

I carefully chew on a bit more of the fruit. I need meat or bread or something - this cannot be healthy. The water is as bad as ever. The shock never manages to leave. The cave is just another - jagged ice walls and a penetrating cold that locks into your bones and never leaves. The white is still blinding. The sound of silence still terrifying. My coat is as good a bed as I will ever get, so I curl up, close my eyes, and fix the mask on so I don't wake up with my eye frozen together.

 _My dreams are wild. I run though them, no longer cold, but burning hot. I'm sweating, still in my tribute outfit. A musty blindfold shuts me out, so I sense rather than see Leo, Piper and Calypso. They're running, running alongside me. But the Careers are here too, and I don't feel safe, though we're all going in the same direction. The hot ground scalds my feet through my boots, dipping and rising to throw me off. We run, all of us. All the tributes are here now._

 _But instead of helping each other run from... Whatever it is we're running from, we push each other over, tripping and shoving. I want to shout, yell out the need for co-operation._

 _But suddenly, Thalia is there. I don't remember my sister. My mother said she died years ago, in a freak accident at the school. She was the only one who died, but I wasn't ever allowed to mention it to anyone in case I hurt anyone's feelings. I never knew how my sisters death could affect other people more than my parents or me, but I see her in my dream._

 _She's there, near me._

 _But she goes._

 **A/N: Yes, I do know Thalia was at the start too...**


	15. Will

**A/N: Dedicated to my friend Chips, even though she won't read this. Sorry I broke your bag!**

 **POV: Will Solace**

Well, this was awkward.

This pale boy, just staring at me.

I think he's unarmed, but seen as he's here, he could probably rip my throat out anyway. I wouldn't have the strength to fight him if he now decides to kill me. Fruit, bread and water make for a _terrible_ diet. Meat is so rare here, we could all be dead within a few weeks from the lack of protein alone, let alone everything else.

But still, he's staring at me, probably wondering whether or not to kill the strange blonde guy who just intruded into his cave. It's a mess in here, ripped cloth and fallen snow mixing with blood from a huge, weeping scratch down his arm.

Nico, I think his name is. I know he's the 6 male tribute, his odds weren't brilliant and he could be about to kill me.

I shift my weight slightly, shuffling in the snow. I can't leave, I only just got in here before the Bears came into view. It's the fascinating boy in front of me, or death by claws.

He just stares. Looking at me, my face, my clothes. He's observing my nervous movements, glaring and watching. Until I can't stand the silence.

"Hey. I'm Will. Can I stay here until those Bears move?"

He seems a bit taken back. No answer comes forth. I blush a bit, embarrassed by the whole situation.

"What District?" He rasps, one brown eye hidden under his hair.

"Urr... Eleven. You?"

"6. And so long as you leave again once they go."

"Oh. Ok."

Nico finishes the talk by effectively turning his back on me and keeping to the back of his cave. I sit at the front, desperately trying to stop myself from offering to clean his wound or tidy his cave - it's really not healthy, and the scratch must be on the verge of infection. It looks a bit like a knife or claw wound. The latter is sure to be fatal in here though, so he probably got into trouble with another tribute.

 _Ok then. He's probably got a weapon. That or he can fight._

I don't want to make conversation with someone who obviously doesn't want it, but those Bears will take anytime up to about a day to move. From my time spent running around these southern caves, avoiding Careers and Mutts and the landslides they love to throw at this area, I've learned a lot about the Bears. They attack the moment one of them catches sight of a tribute, but they can also sense people. They don't attack at that point, but they do walk excruciating slowly, worse if they sense quite a few people.

So with me, Nico, and the possibility of others, they might not be gone before nightfall, and I would prefer not to have to spend that time in awkward silence.

But how do you start up a thriving conversation with... With _him_?

So I just wrap my coat more snugly around me, settle down in the snow, and position myself so I can see both Nico and the Bears. Both are dangerous.

He isn't looking at me. His eyes are focused to the scratch on his arm, his fingers wiping away blood and tracing the thin line. Occasionally he shifts, moving his legs about and repositioning his weight. Nico looks like a bird, something trapped where it should not be.

 _Don't we all._

 _Shut up._

"Do you regularly talk to yourself?"

I jump in surprise, my arm flying out to make sure I don't fall out the cave.

"Ummm... No. J-just... Was I? I mean...!" I cut myself off before my cheeks can get any redder.

"Yes, then. You do. That's the first sign of madness. But then again - we're all going mad in here."

And Nico laughs, a horrible laugh, full of pain and anger and longing. His breathing rasps and sounds out. It's painful to hear.

"That's not true." I regret saying that the moment I see his eyes.

The laugh rings out again.

"We hunt..." He fingers the edge of a black sword I did not see. "We fight..." He brings it upwards, pointing it towards the wall.

"And then we kill. What's not mad about that?"

"The Capitol are _making_ us."

"Tell me. If someone killed your friend, or sister, or something, would you not hunt, fight and kill them?"

I think about Kayla, my little sister, probably sat with her head obscuring the telly to anyone else, rooting for me and crying. And though he didn't mention brothers, Austin would be gently pulling her back, sitting her down properly and drying her tears and being brave for her.

Would I kill for them?

I really don't know. I might want to, but kill someone - a _person_ , whatever they did, seems a bit harsh. Even here, on the Games, there are ways to survive and win without a single kill.

"I don't know." I answer Nico. "Maybe."

"That's you dead then." He turns away. "If your immediate answer isn't yes..."

"Would you?" I interrupt.

"Yes."

His _is_ an immediate answer.

"For brothers, for friends..." I press.

"Too late." he mumbles. "Too late." Then: "Well I already have, haven't I?" He shows me the slash on his arm.

I don't reply. I carry on looking at the Bears, thinking through what that could mean.

But as I turn to him, silhouetted slightly against the darkening wall, I see real fear and insecurity on his previously stone face. So within an hour, his wound is cleaned and wrapped, his cave is rid of blood, and a meal is being set up. The Mutts are lingering extremely slowly, so I position Nico as lookout in fear of other tributes.

Nico has a surprising amount of good food, so I can set up a meal actually worth eating for once. More for him, as it looks like he's barely touched anything during the entirety of the Games.

We eat in comfortable silence. The white meat is extremely nice - just a shame my slices of orange fruit are frozen and the water turns everything inside to ice. Nico eats ravenously, his fingers barely scraping the food before he's swallowed it. He even knocks back the water like its normal temperature.

Afterwards, we take turns watching the Bears for a bit. I haven't said anything about being able to stay when they've gone, but I don't care now either way. At least I've been able to help him.

Nico drags me out to watch the anthem when the sun sets. The days are disturbingly irregular here. I didn't really expect anyone to be there, since the only one to go in the last day or so was the eight girl.

But there is one.

The girl with the hair like volcanic rock shines up, her face turned towards an invisible camera, her regal face looking out for one last time.

Nico sucks a breath in.

"Reyna."

"Sorry?" I ask, confused. "What?"

"Reyna." He turns his eyes down. "Her name was Reyna. She was one of three favorites to win."

"What killed her?" I wonder. "I didn't hear anything, not even her canon."

He shakes his black head of hair.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

I stare up into the sky, wondering how on earth I didn't hear that girl dying. Whatever it was, in this small arena, I don't want to meet it.

Little did I know, I already had.


	16. Percy 2

Reyna was dead.

It wasn't that I was going to cry for her - she always creeped me out. First with killing that Sherman guy, then her leading Hazel to her death-by-bear. Not to mention the huge hulk of what used to be Frank, but is now sort of brain-dead, eating the occasional bit of bread and sitting in the tent hugging his sword.

The thing was, we didn't know how. Reyna was one of the best tributes in the arena. One of us couldn't have taken her down - it had to have been a Mutt or some other Gamemaker trap.

And that is _seriously_ scaring me.

Annabeth is keeping lookout. We've moved out of the centre, and over to the mountains in the south. Frank blocked up a cave for us, so we had plenty of space to set up the tent. It's bloody freezing - higher areas always are. I now know why we found most of the other tributes hiding in their caves, despite it being a really obvious, easily trapped place to hide.

Occasionally, we hunt for other tributes. But the ones left are clever - caves have been blocked when we tried to get inside, traps have been set up in entrances, and the guy from 6 almost killed Frank when we found him getting water in the south caves near us.

Reyna's death scared us. Annabeth had let out a little shriek when she saw the picture in the sky, Frank had growled like some sort of bear, and I'll admit that I might have squeaked a little.

Because... She wouldn't have just been killed by anyone or some Mutt or something. There is something terrible, trapped in here with us. It killed her and it could kill us. This must be what people from different districts feel like with us - cornered and petrified. At least us Careers had a larger chance of surviving because of all the training and stuff. They had nothing.

The heatless sun is setting, so me and Annabeth leave Frank on guard and set out. We avoid the 6 guy's cave lower down, and set off east.

The ground slopes so sharply, and our feet sink into the snow so fast, it's hard getting anywhere fast. But we pull each other along, shivering in our coats, weapons in front getting coated in our misty breath. Her hair flashes even with no light. The hard little flashlight in my gloved hand leads the way, revealing the layers of ominous caves.

We walk and walk, silence a little cover around us. This Games is not going to plan. We need to fight the best we can, so we go on, until a pretty orange firelight blinks innocently out at us, flickering a little hello.

It's the boy from 7. His mischievous grin has gone, leaving a frown and a row of floppy curls growing down over his eyes. He doesn't see us. He just gazes into the fire, hands empty, eyes full of complication.

In the end, Annabeth takes pity on him. He barely has time to react to the two arrows in his eye and neck, before kneeling over backwards, his fire burning out. We hear his canon go, and turn away.

The brightness of the dying embers recedes. He's the only one we find. The walk around the arena is made only harsher by the new stakes involved, and our shared guilt as we hold our heads high into the night.

We return back to camp, stashing our weapons and eating a few strips of meat before going back out into the dark to bring Frank back from guard duty on the ledge.

We don't.

The corpse is mangled. His arms have been taken off, his neck mostly severed from his slashed body. His bloodied sword is still clutched in his frozen hands - his attacker probably isn't too well off. Everything is coated in blood: his coat, his jumpers, his body. It's no use trying to clean him up, so we just stand, and watch his progress upwards into the hovercraft.

We don't notice the message slashed in the snow.

I get little sleep that night. Whatever got Reyna probably got Frank too. It's so horrible. I was never trained to handle being the one who got hunted. But the Careers are not in charge now. _The monster_ is. It must be even a nightmare of the Gamemakers. A beast so large, no training will ever defeat it. The Capitol's new pet.

Dawn does not bring activity. It brings fear, ice and a distinct need to pee. Annabeth stubbornly stays asleep, so I'm left by myself to think of new tactics: we had a lot worked out from yesterday, but yesterday we had a large, muscled sword to fight for us. Now, we have a skinny blonde girl and me. _And_ we need to take on three others. I'll have to ask her who though. Names might help in a lets-talk-about-this situation. But obviously, you cannot think properly without breakfast, so I rob the stash by the entrance until I'm nice and full. Capitol food might be extravagant and silly, but those burgers are just heaven. Especially with that buttery, yellowy-orange stuff called cheese. Just awesome.

But thinking about food makes me think about my mom. She would make the most _lovely_ fish meals. Most people were stuck with cooked fish and bread, or fish stew and bread, but she would design all sorts of lovely stuff. And then there was Tyson, my half-bro, who would make stuff with the driftwood we found on the beach, and Grover, who would always manage to make me laugh if I was sad. I really want to get back to them all - so much it's a physical pain in my stomach- but I would rather die in here than drag around the memories of the arena. I would permanently be re-living the bloodbath, Reyna killing Sherman, Hazel's death, Frank's body, the sights of the others I hunted, and probably the death of Annabeth, once it comes.

It's a hard decision. Seriously.

So what do I decide? Madness and family?

Or death?

 **A/N: Sorry I took so long. I was updating AOR! (PJO fanfic)**


	17. Annabeth 4

The entire arena is building up strength for our last stands.

Percy doesn't get it. He's getting all cute and confused over what's happening. I think he still believes that the Gamemakers have a huge monster in here that's killing the tributes. But he didn't see what Frank had written in the snow. That frightening truth that killed him. It killed Reyna too, and possibly the 7 boy, who was sat out by the fire, just waiting for something to come. And it could kill any of us yet, now the end is starting.

He's eaten all the meat when I wake up, but I don't say anything and just make a breakfast out of some other stuff. Some people in here won't be able to make much of a breakfast, so really I should feel privileged. And I do.

We run through endless tactics. Fighting tributes, fighting groups of them, fighting Mutts with claws, Mutts with teeth, anything we can think of. But if I'm right about Frank and Reyna, tactics won't save us. Nothing will save us from the conclusion of this Games. It's been the same for 36 years before now, and I'm only beginning to recognise the haunted, pained looks of victors. How they turned to drugs and drinks. How so many of them died young, even after surviving the Games.

But I leave Percy happily in the dark. He brainstorms monster theories, tells me horror stories about its poisonous fangs, incredible speed, nightmarish looks and hooked claws. I reply with a few of my own: night vision, a nose that can hunt a tribute from a mile away and the strength to crush even those Bears. But our _monster_ has all those things and more.

The sea behind the mountains is beginning to creep up. Or it doesn't so much creep, as come smashing inwards, crushing the ice and whirling like a hurricane. It's such an unnatural sapphire-y colour that I think it's poisoned in some way. Maybe not poisoned exactly, but deadly within seconds. And knowing this arena, it's probably fatally _cold._ Freezing appears to be the way to go in here.

We don't see any more tributes for the day. Instead, we stay in the tent and sharpen our weapons. My coat is beginning to fray now, the cuffs are coming loose. I pull at them nervously. Now is not a time for second thoughts or remembrance - we need to fight. Percy's miserable gaze at the tent wall seems to suggest that he is, though. He's thinking about all the tributes he murdered, and...

 _Annabeth! Will you_ stop _thinking about dead tributes and dying!_

But I can't.

We didn't hear the canon go off, but the others must have been busy. A picture appears in the sky - the neat haired, polite 5 boy. Jason. I wish it told you how they died, and who by. I want to know. I want to know who we should trust and who is a enemy. I want to know how many tributes the 6 guy in the caves under us has killed. Maybe he's hunting down the fourth tribute now. Another boy - district 11 I think. Blonde haired. Me and Frank did see him once, around here, but he punched a certain spot in the cave wall, and the entrance all came down, and left the back untouched. It must have been a cave with many openings, or he wouldn't be alive.

Percy thinks we should be out there hunting the other tributes. I would much rather wait for them to come for us. But he gets a bit insistent.

"Annabeth! _We are Careers_! We can hunt any one of the others, dammit. Let's get one of us home quicker!"

Home quicker. Would home ever feel the same now?

"You go." I sigh. "We need a guard anyway."

Percy grabs his sword and a bow, straps a throwing knife to his belt, and walks out without a second glance. I strain my ears for a canon. They are only really loud enough to hear if you're standing right next to the dead tribute. They play them on the TV, but the Capitol really need to get us a better canon in the arena. I'll tell everyone, so the victor has a chance to ask the Capitol.

 _Stop making jokes Annabeth. It's much too serious and time, and anyway, you really cannot make good jokes._

And so I sit, water dripping around inside the tent, picking at my unraveling cuff and waiting.

For a canon that I do not want to hear.

I don't see Percy again for the rest of the night, so by sunrise, I'm worried. Did he walk too far out? Get smashed by the sea? Get into difficulties with another tribute?

I sit all day, shivering in the tent entrance, waiting for someone who never comes back.

His picture is in the sky that night. I give him a silent goodbye - a little _tribute_ to his death. I remember what he told me yesterday, about his family. His mom, who he wanted nothing but to get home to. His brother, Tyson. And his friend, Grover. He told tales of going out at night in beautiful boats and catching gleaming fish in huge nets. His house sounds perfect, a little grey-stone cottage, flowers in a small garden, a few animals in there too. It sounds like Paradise compared to district 2's training camps and solemn mountain.

I stand where I think there is a camera - just above the cave entrance. I say my goodbyes to Percy. I give my condolences to his family.

Another face is in the sky that night. Will, the 11 boy.

I just feel numb. The end is here. It's me. And Nico. Just us two and some cameras. Fighting for life and death.

The sea crashes below me.

I head out to the cornucopia. They will raise the sea level until it's the only place left, so I might as well be there early.

 _Thalia. Matthew and Bobby. My father and mother would be proud of me. If I win._

If I win, I will see the faces of every single person in this arena. My nightmares will be of Percy's family, crying without him. I will have to face the Victory Tour. It could kill me. They have it lucky.

Nico doesn't make it to the cornucopia that night.


	18. Nico

The sea churns under the cave.

Will is dead. His legs turned blue and rotted.

Bianca. I'm coming to you this time.

You ran off when I was ten.

And you ended up in the Games.

For District 2.

The dark sea churns.

My coat is weighing me down.

I won't need it.

Reyna didn't need her's.

Or Frank.

I saw them both.

I saw the worst monster of them all.

I saw death in their eyes.

I saw love too.

No, I didn't kill them.

But now that monster is going to kill me.

Well done Annabeth. You won.

I have no-one to say goodbye to.

 _I fall._


	19. Annabeth 5

Nico's canon goes.

I have won.

I sink to my knees.

 _No. No. No._

I lie numb in the snow.

 _I have won._

 _I've won._

It doesn't feel like a victory.

An annoying Capitol voice courses though the speakers. A hovercraft lowers itself into view, and I place one hand on the ladder. It freezes me in place, so I don't bother to climb it. I just dangle off the end as it rises up. Out of here.

They take me to a white room. Doctors in full-body suits check me all over, putting stinging stuff on my scars, sticking warm gel-things to my sides, dabbing at my skin with cotton buds, and then giving me over to my old prep team. Seeing as I'm not too injured, they start on me immediately. My straggly hair and body are thoroughly washed, my legs get more pain-inducing wax on them, despite the facts that there's hardly any hair on them. They shape my nails, wash my face, and stick some more eyelashes on me. I let them. I have no fight left.

A few hours later, we land in the Capitol. They seal me into another white room, hook me up to machines and leave me with a Capitol man who claims to there to heal my mind. I let him and his smelly, swirled red-and-yellow hair ask me questions. I don't answer them, preferring to stay silent and bury my head in my pillow.

That's until he asks me, in his annoying, twittery voice, to tell him about Percy.

That's when I explode.

 _Why do they try so hard to heal me? They couldn't heal him. They couldn't heal Sherman or Reyna. They let them die. And now they want to help me!_

He simply presses a button. White plastic belts lower over my ankles, waist and wrists. The man talks some more. I'm not listening now. I'm crying, I think I'm crying...

Finally, he leaves. I press my pain button, and sink down into deep black sleep.

About a week later, they think I'm ready. My stylist dresses me up in a pretty, lace-and fur dress. Thankfully, it's yellowed lace. I don't think I could cope with any more white. It's still a bit unnervingly like the tribute outfit, but I leave it.

Artemis clasps my hands in hers and hugs me. I think she understands too. I will never escape from Percy's face, or snow-coloured dresses. She will have her own nightmares, and yet again, the Capitol have dressed her in a dark forest green. Another reminder of the arena she won in.

She holds my hand until I'm shoved under the lights and interviewed again. Phorcys asks simple questions about what I'm going to do at home - not really touching on the arena. He must have been warned that I'm mentally unhinged.

But the real problem is the three-hour video of my Games.

I watch the many, horrible deaths in the bloodbath. I watch as Jason and his pretty friend, Piper, set up a little home in a cave. I watch Leo and Calypso escape our grasp. I'm told all their names. Nico fights too - his sword cleaving through anyone stupid enough to cross him.

The mountain in the west is blown up. The Bears get Leo, Piper and Hazel. I watch Calypso die from her injuries. Frank falls to pieces. Reyna escapes.

But now, I see the true horror of the Games.

Reyna stabs herself.

Will Solace soldiers on, despite the blue-green colour of his legs.

Frank walks into the path of a Bear. On purpose.

Jason jitters and convulses on the floor as the cold rips through him.

Travis, the male tribute from 7, sets up his fire when he sees me and Percy approaching.

Percy himself falls to Nico's black sword.

Nico jumps into the sea.

They finish with my face, staring into the sky in shock.

In the end, they cut the cameras on my last interview.

I'm loaded onto the train.

 _Home._

 _Six months later._

"Annabeth!" Thalia greets me. "Hey, Annie!"

"Thalia."

"Annie, please. You don't want the Capitol doctor to have to come back."

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do. I heard you yell at him last time."

"I was cross."

Thalia taps her fingers on the stone doorframe, evidently wanting to be let in.

"Let me in, and I might have some motivation for you."

I stomp back inside, attempting to slam the door.

Thalia drags me outside into the rain instead, pulling me along behind her until we're in the square.

"Annabeth, have you ever heard of the Rebellatis?" She whispers.

"No."

"Good." She sighs. "You shouldn't have."

Then: "Do you want to know who they are?"

"No."

Thalia nibbles her lip, nervous. She drags me up to the mountain, trying to most private place she can. I'm missing a coat, and I'm really not bothered about this _Rebellatis_. Finally, Thaila finds a large open space, the grass squelching under our feet, the rain turning to sleet and making a cacophony around us. It's the perfect place when you don't want to be caught on camera.

"They - well _we -_ are a rebellion group. We're trying to get information about the Capitol. We just see what we can do. The younger members are here in 2, training until we can move into the Capitol. Artemis is our leader here."

I stare blankly at her, my thoughts swirling up again.

"Annabeth, I can't actually promise anything, but, you could avenge Percy. All the others, too." She practically mouths it, her lips almost touching my ear.

And all of a sudden, I have purpose.

I smile for real, for the first time in over six months.

"Count me in."

 _ **Fin.**_


	20. This is not the end

The 37th Hunger Games was not the only story of its time.  
Certainly not.

 **You saw glimpses of Thalia. Of Zoe and Bianca.**

 **But that was not their story to tell.**

 **They have a tale of rebellion, of sacrifice and pain.**

 **They tried. They failed.**

 **They had nothing else to loose.**

 **Rebellatis.**

(Will hopefully be published by Christmas!)

In the meantime, I will be finishing up some of my other works. (I'll be concentrating on updating _Silvy Solace and the Angel of Revenge_ , if you want to read it. It's a PJO fanfic set in the future.)

Thanks so, _so_ much for reading, voting etc. Signing out,

ChrystalineCD :)


	21. Sequel!

Hi guys!

I'm pleased to say that the sequel, Rebellatis, is now up! I don't know if it's possible to put a link in, so you can find it on my profile under 'My Stories'!

Happy reading, guys!

ChrystalineCD


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